Mushtaq: Slayings at mosque remind us to challenge harmful stereotypes

I can’t help but think of the kids tripping over my feet at the mosque. I want to reassure them there is no reason to be afraid in their home — where they were born — despite being wary myself.

Contributor

Updated: February 3, 2017

Hiba Hamed, left, Jerome St. Denis, Allison Chandler and Starr Meloche take part in a candlelight vigil at City Hall Square for those who died at a Quebec City mosque. A large crowd of about 300 braved the bone-chilling wind Jan. 31, 2017.Nick Brancaccio / NIck Brancaccio

My very first memories of a mosque come from Urbana, Ill., the college town found in the middle of a Midwestern cornfield. As a child, a mosque is a kid’s dream come true: as soon as prayer begins — meaning the adults are preoccupied — you can race through the carpeted obstacle course that is legs, bodies and random objects, such as purses, alongside your newly made friends.

As an adult, I now remind myself not to become a grinch when kids trip over my legs or head (yes, it happens) while praying. I used to be one of them. Some of my warmest memories of a mosque and its people still come from Illinois.

The mosque, like a church, temple, or synagogue, is both a community gathering place and religious centre. People forge lifelong friendships there and sometimes fall in love at a mosque.

Marriage ceremonies are held at the mosque. The ‘aqeeqah, or celebration of a newborn’s birth, is often held at a mosque. Funerals, youth gatherings and sports events, daily prayers, community events — all are held at mosques.

So you can imagine the immense pain many Muslims felt when the news from Quebec City broke. A mass shooting in a mosque? It shouldn’t be possible, especially in Canada.

But it happened. And here we are.

As Canadians, we often believe we’re better than our American neighbours. After this massacre occurred, many blamed the U.S. and the rhetoric from their recent election as somehow being the main driving force behind a 27-year-old Quebec man’s violence.

We know the Canadian political sphere has not been immune to hateful rhetoric: Quebec debated banning head scarves in the public sector for years and brought forward the xenophobic Charter of Values twice.

Former prime minister Stephen Harper insisted that “Islamicism” was our biggest threat, put forth many policies to the detriment of Muslim communities, suggested that mosques were hotbeds for terrorism (widely debunked by experts — many of whom indicate right-wing nationalists, as seen in Quebec City — are a greater threat to national security), and took the niqab ban to federal court — only to lose.

Members of his party have taken on similar rhetoric. Kellie Leitch is running her leadership campaign on a Canadian values test, despite indications the barbaric cultural practices tip line that she championed and then apologized for was detrimental to the party in 2015.

She has also adopted language similar to Trump and garnered the support of white nationalist groups, all the while denying she is anything like the former and meekly rejecting the latter.

At this point I don’t know if Leitch actually spews this hatred because she believes it or because she is told to for the sake of her campaign. I mean, how do you go from demonizing a segment of the population for months to expressing sympathy over their murder within hours?

Words — from politicians, teachers or neighbours — matter. They matter when an organization like Fox News keeps an incorrect tweet about the identity of the killer up for days — until being called out by the Prime Minister’s Office.

They matter when children bully others based on their race, ethnicity or religion. They especially matter when people are murdered in their place of worship.

These words force parents to have difficult “be careful in public” conversations with their kids and Muslim women to take up self-defence classes as a precaution. A friend working at a local settlement agency described the mood of even our newest Canadians as “heavy.”

I can’t help but think of the kids tripping over my feet at the mosque. I want to reassure them there is no reason to be afraid in their home — where they were born — despite being wary myself.

For that, I need your help. Reach out, challenge harmful stereotypes and prove Canada truly is the beacon of diversity that it is known for.

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